The corporate heads of Simular Incorporated initially wanted a main hub of sorts within their creation, Simular. It was a simulated sanctuary where everyone who joined would feel welcomed—safe, and at ease.

Although freedom was an important selling point, they didn’t want the entire simulation to be like the wild, wild west. They wanted a place that had restrictions. Just this one corner of their world where they could build their entire corporate empire around. And everywhere else? That was all open and up for grabs. They’d let the people decide the laws, the rules of the land; the first settlers would have the upper hand.

So to appease this plan of theirs, the leaders created a city in the center of all this amalgamation. The simulated city of a trillion suns—

Virgin Thermopylae.

And floating over this metropolis was the developers’ headquarters. They peered down at the people like newfound gods of their world. The holographic adverts and electrifying neon lights of the city were a sight to see from above the skyline. And there, the creator of Simular would spend most of his hours ruminating about his worries…

The door to the office swung open.

“Why do I always seem to find you here?” Azan, his partner and friend, sauntered in as he usually did. He peered across the multi-colored horizon in distaste. “There’s this thing, yeah? It’s called outside. You ever heard of it? Real grass? Have you even touched any this month? Spring’s almost over, yeah? No better time than now.”

“Spring’s only over on the outside…” He only had a moment’s hesitation before returning to his thoughts. “Leave me be. You’re distracting.”

“You’re always saying that… Especially after the funeral.” Azan whispered the last part as if he didn’t want it to be heard, but then he quickly changed the subject. “See, there’s this problem—”

“Azan.” He’d heard enough. “I’m busy.”

Azan let out a deep sigh. “Always in such a brooding mood.” He pulled his cybernetically affixed finger out of its socket and twirled it around in an almost playful manner. “You can research outside, yeah? Look at the sun. Get some of that cholecalciferol, eh?”

“It doesn’t matter where we are, Azan. It’s all genetically modified anyway.” The Creator paused, almost deciding whether or not to humor his friend’s shallow taunts. “And I know what Vitamin D is. Those words won’t make you look any smarter.”

“I beg to differ.” He shrugged. “It usually works on our shareholders. But my oh my, you’re so gosh darn stodgy today.”

“Archaic words won’t stop me from understanding them either, Azan.”

Azan ignored the remark. “I was just meaning to tell you about our latest shareholder situation. Kingfisher bought—”

“Don’t want to hear it.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“Now, don’t be so… What’s the word? Hostile? Cantankerous?” Azan rubbed the bottom of his chin in an almost exaggerated manner. Then his eyes suddenly lit up. “Oh, did I tell you about what happened to that boy?”

“What boy?”

“You know…” Azan smiled that devilish grin he always made. The Creator knew it was all just a ploy to gaslight him into thinking that he knew. “Wait. Actually, there were a bunch of boys I was meaning to tell you about. There’s that one starving next to our research facility, one we hired yesterday as our attendant, and the one that threw a cup filled with piss at one of my escorts.” He paused as if recalling the incident. “Maybe I should report that one to the authorities—”

“Can we not do this right now?”

“What? I’m just trying to lighten the mood.” Azan plucked at his shirt to cool off. “It feels so stuffy in here. Did you raise the temperature again?”

“You were talking about a boy.” He couldn’t help but ask. Curiosity had gotten the better of him.

“Oh, right! You got the drug dealers, the rich brats, the hackers—we better get rid of the hackers though. They’re kind of ruining all the promotional events—”

“Stop! Just tell me about the boy you mentioned earlier.”

“Alright, alright. I’m getting to it.” Azan paused to tidy his tie. “The one I hired yesterday.”

“Go on.”

“That’s it.”

“What?”

“I just wanted to let you know that I hired him.”

“That’s it? That’s all you were trying to say?” He couldn’t believe it. After all that talk? He could never get used to the man. “I want you to consider your next words wisely. Do you have—”

“Oh, and there were also some problems with the city’s border. Heard something broke through the energy dome. Weird thing is, the server logs say it’s an unnamed NPC. I assume some kind of anomaly, yeah?” Azan waved his own comment aside. “Ah, I’m sure it’s no big deal. That border has broken before.”

“Something broke through the wall? The one meant to be impenetrable?” That shouldn’t have been possible. It was inherently a manipulation of the code.

“I’m sure it’s fine. The hole in the barrier’s already been repaired.”

“Not even I can fully control that. Of course it’s a big deal! Why didn’t you start with that?”

“What? I thought you wouldn’t care.”

An unnamed non-player character… All NPCs within the simulated capital were named. He’d hand-picked them specifically for implementation into the system. None of them should’ve been flagged as unnamed by the server… unless… “Azan, what are its origin values?”

“Origin values? Simular obviously.”

“Where in Simular?”

“Near the outskirts. Technically, in the ‘madic z—”

“Dead Zone? You’re certain of it?”

“Yes,” he emphasized, “of course I am. I can read logs perfectly fine. Thank you very much.”

A myriad of possibilities phased through his mind. It wasn’t a virus, no. Whatever this was, it was the solution—an answer to all of his qualms.

It was a revelation.

“This is it.”

“What is?”

“The answer.”

“Answer?” Azan narrowed his eyes. “To what? What’s with the sudden cryptic speech?”

“Azan, I…” He stared intently as a thought formulated in his mind. He wouldn’t understand. Instead, the Creator made an excuse like he’d always done. “I’m busy. Leave me be.”

Then he was off.